


Truth, Dare, Kiss, or Bite

by slytherco



Series: 25 Days of Drarry [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A drinking game of my own making, Alcohol, Bisexual Harry Potter, Boys Kissing, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Confessions, Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gay Draco Malfoy, Getting Together, Girls Kissing, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hermione goes full Amy Santiago and I loved every second of it, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Making Out, Misunderstandings, Neville Longbottom is a Good Friend, Partying, Post-War, Ron Weasley is So Done, Sleeping Together, Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare, and even Pansy is a good friend, based on ideas taken off the internet, but also a good friend, drama queen draco of course, everybody is tired of the UST, just a little tipsy, just kissing in general, so at least they got some sleep, they're not that drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherco/pseuds/slytherco
Summary: Day 10 of 25 Days of Drarry.Prompt: "'Tis the season for sharing feelings, I guess.”---"Harry liked living a peaceful life. He was aware that the last seven years were the polar opposite of peaceful but he liked to think he never asked for any of it to begin with. Trouble always seemed to somehow find its way to Harry, orbiting around him and making his life miserable. So he wasn’t exactly surprised when the bottle came to a stop, pointing straight at the embodiment of a headache that was Draco Malfoy."
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Series: 25 Days of Drarry [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559188
Comments: 31
Kudos: 846





	Truth, Dare, Kiss, or Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I ended up with a fic that got out of hand and grew uncontrollably. But I really enjoyed writing it! (also, super behind with the challenge oops)
> 
> [Tumblr](https://slytherco.tumblr.com/post/189745946083/25-days-of-drarry-day-10)

_You are cordially invited_

_to the Hogwarts eighth-year students’ Christmas Party_

_Saturday evening, 7th floor, Room of Requirement_

_Password is_ Rudolph

_Bring your drinks!_

Harry looked at the piece of parchment Hermione handed him and smiled. “Did you come up with this?”

“Oh, no, that’s all Dean and Seamus”, she rolled her eyes fondly. “In the name of house unity, they’ve decided to have a party. All eighth-years are invited, of course”, Hermione looked at him knowingly.

“All of them? Well, er, that’s good, I suppose”, Harry nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. Hermione saw right through him.

“Don’t be weird, Harry.”

“I’m not weird, why do you think I’m weird?”, he asked and cringed, sounding too defensive even to his own ears.

“You’re right. Not weird at all”, she scowled. “The Slytherins will be there too, I heard them already talking about the alcohol.”

“So we’re drinking actual _drinks_?”, Harry pointedly ignored the Slytherin bit, knowing full well that Hermione would notice. 

“Well, everybody here is of age, or _almost_ of age, which I chose to ignore this time”, she cleared her throat. “In the name of Christmas spirit, of course.”

He smiled at her in disbelief. “Hermione! Do you want to get plastered?”, he laughed, as his friend blushed furiously.

“Harry James Potter, I want no such thing!” she tried to sound scandalized but her giggle gave her away. 

“Hey. It’s good. We all deserve a break, yeah?” he added with a lopsided smile.

Hermione sighed. “Yes. I believe we do.”

They chatted for a bit and went their separate ways. Harry settled on the large sofa in the eighth-year common room and pondered over their conversation. He truly meant what he said - the prospect of a party seemed brilliant, especially considering that his friends didn’t really get to be stupid teenagers (or young adults, at this point), at least not lately. Everyone worked really hard on mending the fractured relationships and healing old wounds after the war. In hindsight, joining the eighth-year houses into one group wasn’t a bad idea. They shared a common room, all their classes and meals, and there was even some cross-house bunking going on. All in all, after the initial reluctance and suspiciousness had dissipated, everyone fell into a comfortable companionship. 

_Well, not everyone, apparently_ , he thought, rolling his eyes, as Draco Malfoy entered the common room. Harry didn’t think it was possible but this year, they were at each other’s throats with a renewed ferocity. They seemed to have an unlimited arsenal of sarcastic remarks, harsh shoulder bumps in narrow corridors, and vicious insults, all reserved exclusively for one another. And every time he saw Malfoy sneer at him, he felt his blood boil. Moreover, every time he went on a rant about how huge of a prat Malfoy was, Hermione and Ron shared an eye-roll or a weird look. When asked about it, they changed the subject or stormed off together to Merlin knows where. 

It was fine. He knew what they were thinking - this was sixth year all over again. Which only made Harry more annoyed, because, _yes,_ but also _no._ He was well aware that Malfoy was forced into an unenviable position during the war. And that the tosser wasn’t _evil,_ per se. After all, he did consciously refuse to identify him at the Manor. So the little detail between _yes_ and _no_ was that Harry knew Malfoy wasn’t plotting to take over after Voldemort’s demise. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but curse the fact that he still caught himself thinking about the pillock. Those thoughts tended to venture into some dangerous territory, too, especially when Harry would catch himself thinking about Malfoy’s eyes, and how they gleamed in at least twelve shades of silver, or how his hair would feel if he were to card his fingers through the white-blond locks. Sometimes, when Harry was feeling bold, it was Malfoy’s mouth and how soft it might feel, or, Merlin spare him, his arse. All right, whatever. It was sensible and completely normal to think the git was attractive. Harry was secure enough with his identity to accept the fact that he was attracted to blokes as well. But the Slytherin Prince himself was a bloody nuisance who had never in his life passed an opportunity to drive Harry crazy. And Harry always retaliated-- he had been unable to back down from a challenge from Draco Malfoy since they were both eleven years old.

He caught himself staring at the idiot a second too late, as Malfoy strode through the common room, shot him a dirty look and sneered. “See something you like, Potter?”

Harry replied with a sarcastic smile. “You wish, Malfoy.”

The blond just let out a bark of laughter and walked past him. Pansy Parkinson, treading behind him, rolled her eyes. She shot Harry an annoyed look. “What?”, he furrowed his brow.

Pansy narrowed her eyes as if she hoped to shoot a dagger through Harry’s skull. He looked at her incredulously. She groaned in frustration and stomped to her room. Weird. It was probably Malfoy’s fault.

***

The day of their party had come; everyone was in high spirits and, ironically, the literal spirits were also high - in percentage as well as in amount. All their fellow students had prepared a hefty supply of all kinds of alcoholic beverages and the common room was buzzing in anticipation. When it was time to leave for the seventh floor, they were to go in pairs, to avoid making a commotion, using different routes. 

They regrouped in the common room; there was quite a commotion and Harry stood there, confused. Finally, Hermione cast a _Sonorus_ and her amplified voice echoed in the room; everybody turned to listen.

“Guys, we’ve talked about it! Did everyone get the memo?” They all looked at each other, nodding in confirmation. Harry, as usual, did not get any memo. He listened in.

“Good. Find your pairs and get ready to leave for the 7th floor. There are four ways to get there and each pair will get a little map at the exit. We’re leaving in five-minute intervals and there’s roughly sixteen of us so that’s eight pairs”, Harry was impressed how well Hermione had planned it and, like an army general, issued orders left and right. Clearly, Dean and Seamus had been more focused on the fun part. “Every route will be used only twice in a twenty-minute interval. That should eliminate any suspicion. From the moment the first pair leaves, everybody should be gone in exactly thirty-five minutes. I’ll go last and I want to see everybody when I get there”, she scanned the room with a commanding glare. “Ronald!” Next to Harry, Ron started.

“Um, yes, love?” he looked at her with a starstruck expression. Harry chuckled.

“You’re with me”, she gave him a pointed look and addressed the group one last time. “Get moving, people!”

Ron elbowed Harry and muttered. “I’d be dead without her.”

“You and me both, mate”, Harry let out a small laugh.

All the students rushed to find their pairs and Harry stood there, confused. Ron was with Hermione, so he turned to Neville but his friend was already chatting with Theodore Nott. All right, that was fair, the two developed an unexpected friendship at the beginning of the term. He looked around to find the rest of his friends, who all seemed to have found a pair. Seamus was already holding Dean’s hand, Parvati was standing with her sister, Padma; then, there was Ernie Macmillan with Hannah Abbott and Michael Corner with Anthony Goldstein. Harry gulped because that meant there were only Slytherins left-- and he cursed under his breath seeing Parkinson hooking her arm under Zabini’s. And that left…

“Oh, for fuck’s sake”, Malfoy rolled his eyes in exasperation. He was standing in the far corner of the room, leaning against an armchair with effortless elegance. He was wearing his usual: a pair of impeccably tailored trousers and a fitted white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was currently looking at Harry with utter displeasure, albeit his fingers fiddled nervously with his wand. He shoved it in his pocket and ran a hand through his hair. He wore it different, lately - it wasn’t slicked back with posh products anymore but shorter in the back and on the sides with a tousled fringe on top that sometimes fell into his eyes. It gave him a softer look which Harry decidedly refused to acknowledge.

“The feeling’s mutual, you prat”, Harry shot, his tone bitter. 

“Boys!”, Hermione interrupted them before the exchange escalated. “No time for pigtail-pulling, get in line!”

They both looked at her in outrage. “We don’t do that!”, Harry shouted as Malfoy shrieked in indignation. “ _Excuse_ me?!”

Hermione just scowled at them with a heavy sigh. Whatever.

The pairs started leaving one after another, according to Hermione’s plan. There were only four of them left when the _Tempus_ charm sounded, indicating it was time for Harry and Malfoy to go. 

“Here’s your route”, Hermione gave him a scrap of parchment. He recognized the familiar path from his years at school, sneaking around and exploring the castle. _And following Malfoy_ , his mind supplied. “Go, and watch out for Filch.”

They left the common room and walked in tense silence which Harry was positive wasn’t going to last long. Malfoy didn’t disappoint. “This is ridiculous. As if we need a chaperone to walk a few sets of stairs”, he shot Harry a dirty look. “I didn’t sign up to be a babysitter.”

Harry let out a sardonic laugh. “It’s cute, how you think _you’re_ the one doing the babysitting”, he said, and _did he just call Malfoy cute?_

The blond glanced at him with an unreadable expression. Before he could bite back, Harry stopped in his tracks. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? Potter, if this is another-”, he yelped as Harry pulled him into a dark side corridor, pressing him against a wall, a hand covering his mouth. He shot harry a murderous glare but Harry just put a finger over his lips, urging Malfoy to shut the hell up for once in his life.

They both heard the approaching footsteps. _Filch._ He was limping through the corridor, whistling out of tune to himself. Luckily, they were well-concealed in the shadows; they needed to wait for the caretaker to walk past. After the initial shock, their position felt awkward; Harry pointedly ignored how close they were, and how good Malfoy smelled. He swallowed heavily, as questioning silver eyes bore into him. Slowly, with a warning glance, Harry removed his hand from the other man’s mouth. It only got worse; now, he also felt slow, warm breaths, in tune with the rise and fall of the other man’s chest. Malfoy’s eyes darted to his lips for a fraction of a second and Harry’s heart pounded. _What the fuck was happening right now?_

“Potter”, he whispered. He seemed out of breath and his usual sneer wasn’t there. “I think he’s gone.”

Harry scrambled to let the man go. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” He felt Malfoy’s gaze but stifled the urge to look back. They resumed their walk in silence and reached the seventh floor without any more interruptions.

***

Everybody was already there when they entered. Harry took a look around and smiled; the room was beautifully decorated with fairy lights, Christmas ornaments and little stars floating in the air. There were large, comfy cushions of all shapes and sizes scattered around, some already occupied by students. In the corner of his eye, he caught a large buffet-style table littered with various foods and snacks, drinks, alcohols and a large bowl of punch (courtesy of Seamus). Hermione and Ron ran up to him.

“Harry, what happened?”, her eyes darted to Malfoy for a second. “Where were you two? Did you get caught?” Her voice was strange but Harry decided not to dwell on it. He went through enough already and just wanted to drink in peace.

“Filch. We had to lay low for a second but he’s gone”, Harry replied, praying the heat in his face didn’t show. It’s not like anything happened.

Malfoy raised his hand at someone in the back of the room and a bottle of Firewhisky flew towards them. He caught it in a swift, elegant move; _damn those seeker reflexes._ He turned to the three of them. “Yes, leave it to Potter dearest to attract all kinds of trouble wherever he goes.” 

“Oh, trust us, we know”, Ron piped in with a pointed look. Hermione elbowed him.

The blond only huffed at that and walked away to join his Slytherins, the bottle in his hands already uncapped. They watched him go and Ron turned to Harry.

“Charming. Well, at least it’s good to know Filch doesn’t suspect anything. Here”, he pressed a glass of amber liquid into Harry’s hand. “Merry Christmas, mate.”

“Cheers. Merry Christmas.” The three friends clinked their glasses together and took a swig. Harry savored the warm, spicy flavour as it filled his stomach. 

The three of them joined the party, mingling with their friends, talking, laughing and simply enjoying their night off. Alcohol was flowing and after some time, Harry felt a pleasant lightness crawl into his body. He wasn’t drunk; there was just a satisfying buzz associated with good company and a few drinks. He caught himself watching Malfoy at the other side of the room, and a few times, he saw the other man immediately turn his head as if he was watching him too. _Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was affected by the incident in the corridor._ Harry quickly discarded the thought. There was no _incident_ , for Merlin’s sake. 

The celebration went on without a hitch; it was nice to see all the eighth-year students together, all past transgressions forgotten. Harry was laughing at something Ron had just said when Dean’s voice bellowed in the room.

“Oi! Everybody, shut up!” He and Seamus climbed on an empty table to draw everybody’s attention. The noise died down and everybody turned to the two men.

“Fellow students”, Seamus started, swinging his bottle in the air. “Thank you for coming to our humble celebration. We hope everybody is enjoying themselves!” A round of thunderous applause sounded in the room, some of them raising their drinks in approval. 

“Thank you, thank you!”, Dean waved his hand and waited for the ovation to subside. “We also hope you’re enjoying that lovely punch over there, courtesy of my better half”, he tilted his head to Seamus who raised both his hands in a victorious gesture screaming at the top of his lungs. “Punch Man!”

There was more applause, and Neville yelled. “Mate, don’t call yourself _Punch Man_ , that’s gross!”, followed by a roar of laughter.

Seamus joined in and mouthed _Punch Man!_ at Neville, who almost toppled over from laughter.

Dean chimed in. “All right, all right, calm down boys! We have a little announcement! Refill your drinks and take your seats, ladies and lads, because we are going to play a game!” He swung his wand at the scattered pillows and they formed a neat circle, large enough to fit them all.

“We call it _Truth, Dare, Kiss, or Bite_!” Everyone shared curious looks; Harry raised his eyebrows, apprehensive. Whatever these two had come up with, he had a nagging feeling something was bound to go wrong. He dared a look at Malfoy. The Slytherin was standing next to Zabini who was whispering something in his ear. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Let us take our seats and we shall explain the rules!”, Seamus’s tie was already hanging over his neck and Dean’s sweater was nowhere to be seen. Both men jumped down from the table and gestured for everyone to move over to the circle. Some of the girls were already giggling and whispering; Harry gulped. They sat down, Ron and Hermione on his right, Dean on his left. Hermione was whispering something to Hannah, as they both glanced one seat over where Neville was sat next to Seamus. The Patil sisters were chatting excitedly with Pansy, who was already wearing an impish smile which was not a good sign. Across from Harry, there was Malfoy, sitting cross-legged and still managing to make it look effortless and graceful. He and his fellow Slytherins were sharing a bottle of some fancy whiskey, all nursing their glasses. Anthony, Michael, and Ernie joined them last, closing the circle.

Dean raised his wand and an empty bottle flew towards them. Harry ducked instinctively, knowing that his friend was slightly less than sober, but Dean managed just fine. Harry thought amusedly that they chose the perfect moment to play, considering the level of inebriation; everybody was just tipsy enough to do something stupid but not nearly drunk enough to pass out. Dean, feeling confident in his new game show host role, commenced the game.

“Seamus and I are especially proud of this creation-- the rules of the game incorporate a classic truth or dare and its excitement, the revealing nature of spin the bottle, and, my personal favourite, getting absolutely _sloshed_!” There was another fit of laughter and the man continued.

“Let us begin! I need a charming volunteer and we will all learn by their example. Anyone?”

“Well if it’s someone charming you’re looking for, I will gladly carry the burden”, Blaise Zabini held out his hand, earning an amused snort from Malfoy.

“Not going to disagree”, Dean laughed and Seamus shot a _Watch it!_ from the other side of the circle.

Dean levitated the bottle to Blaise. “All right, you have the bottle, you start with a drink! Go on, then”, Zabini snickered and took a generous sip from his glass. Dean carried on. “Now, you make a choice: truth, dare, kiss _or_ maybe you’re feeling kinky, and want to go with a little bite? When you choose, you spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on, will be the receiver of your choice!”

The other man smiled and spoke in a low voice. “Let’s start easy and go with the truth”, he then spun the bottle which landed on Anthony Goldstein. 

Dean spoke in a serious tone. “Now, Zabini, you ask him a question. Anthony, you answer and choose the next person to spin!”, he gasped. “I almost forgot! Seamus and I are feeling generous tonight so each of you gets one bail-out for the whole game! The person who is giving as well as the person who is receiving can use their bail.” He smiled proudly. “Go on, gentlemen.”

Blaise looked at Anthony. “This one is mysterious. Why don’t you tell us, who in this room you fancy?” 

The other boy went scarlet and everybody stared at him with expectation. He shyly looked at Parvati. “I think she already knows, right Parvati?” A goofy smile crept on her face as the group hollered and whistled.

“Punch Man and his sidekick did it again!”

“Seamus, _stop!_ ”

Anthony took a drink and passed the bottle to Pansy. “Go get them!”

Pansy chose dare and the bottle landed on Neville. She smiled like the evil Slytherin she was and turned to him. “Longbottom, let’s cut the crap. I dare you to _finally_ kiss Abbott!”

The room erupted in chaos as Neville and Hannah looked at each other; neither of the two bailed. Seamus was seated between them so Neville pushed him back with a laugh and kissed Hannah, to everyone’s delight.

Everybody was getting increasingly drunk as the game went on. Theodore Nott made Ernie admit he liked Padma and then, it was Hermione’s turn to spin. 

Harry couldn’t stop himself from sneaking glances at Malfoy; the man would sometimes smile at his friends at it made Harry’s stomach jump. It looked good on him and there was nothing wrong with admitting that. Or so the alcohol told him, whatever. Malfoy must have felt someone staring at him because their gazes met and there was a challenge there. He took a long swig and Harry watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Their staring contest was interrupted when Hermione asked Pansy a question.

“I’ve always wondered… Are you and Malfoy a thing?”

Pansy burst out in laughter as Malfoy choked on his whiskey. Harry smirked at him and the man shot him a haughty glance. 

Parkinson finally answered, wiping a tear off her face. “Good grief, Granger, _no._ ” She smiled at Malfoy, earning herself a fond eyeroll. “This idiot here is my best friend but, um, we were never a _thing._ And we never will be”, she looked down and Malfoy whispered something to her. It must have been something nice because she smiled and he nudged her playfully. Harry didn’t expect to ever see the Slytherins be so… human with each other. He stifled the unpleasant feeling in his gut deciding it was _not_ envy. Harry didn’t catch Malfoy watching him carefully as he refilled his glass. 

In the meantime, the game got even more ridiculous and revealing; Seamus made Neville down the rest of his bottle (which did not end well, as the man was now slouching against Seamus, completely drunk), Dean told Seamus he loved him (which ended in a kiss so inappropriate they were asked to stop), and Nott admitted he was asexual (which everyone took seriously and with respect, to the boy’s evident relief). At some point, the bottle landed on Harry and Michael Corner asked him who was his first crush at Hogwarts. 

Harry could have said it was Cho. He could have made something up, some random girl nobody knew. Or he could have said it was Hermione and everyone would have bought it. But, feeling brave, he smirked and told them the actual, honest truth. “I was 11, and it was Oliver Wood.”

Everybody quieted down but Zabini was having none of that. “Potter!”, a playful smile crept on his face. “So full of surprises. I thought you-”

“I like both. He actually made me realize that”, Harry cut in, knowing where he was going. “And I don’t see any of you lot disagreeing! That bloke was fit”, he looked at everyone with a smirk and some of his friends nodded in agreement.

“As a straight man, I have to admit he looked good”, Neville shrugged and took a drink for good measure.

“Agreed, he was _hot_ ”, Hermione giggled as Ron looked at her in disbelief. “Oh, come on, Ronald, you know I’m weak for quidditch players!” She kissed his cheek as he hooked his arm over her shoulders.

Harry looked at Malfoy again and the blond was gazing at him with an unreadable expression. He wasn’t sure if the Slytherin knew about his preference; he never thought of it as a secret but, on the other hand, he wasn’t one to scream something like that from the rooftops. Ron and Hermione always knew and told him as much when he plucked up the courage to tell them, back in fourth year. Harry remembered it as the confusing year of fancying both Cedric and Cho which was only the final confirmation he needed. Having that in mind, he knew his weird fascination with Malfoy wasn’t making him uneasy because he was a bloke. It was only because he was _Malfoy_. 

_Problem?_ He mouthed at the man who was still staring. Malfoy just sneered, flipped him two fingers and went back to his drink. Prat.

Everybody got much bolder after all the admissions as their game progressed. People started choosing kisses but nobody went for a bite yet. At some point, Anthony and Parvati sneaked off to a couch and were now making out. Ernie got to kiss Padma, which, good for them, and Hermione kissed Pansy, to Ron’s utter dismay. Things got interesting when Seamus chose truth and the bottle landed on Malfoy.

“I have a feeling you will not surprise me, Finnigan”, the blond drawled. He was now sprawled on the floor, long legs uncrossed, looking at the other man expectantly.

Seamus only laughed at that. “I will most certainly not. Out with it: are you one of us?”

Malfoy snorted. “One of you? If you mean Gryffindor, then you must be drunker than I thought.”

“You wish, Malfoy”, Ron shot him a sarcastic smile.

“I _mean_ ”, Seamus cut in, “are you gay?”

“Have you ever seen a heterosexual man dress this well?”, the blond ran a hand down his body. 

“That’s not a straight answer, Malfoy, don’t try this cunning shit with us.”

Malfoy only smirked at that. “Well, good, nothing I do is _straight_.”

Harry’s eyes shot to Malfoy. No one seemed to notice there was another staring match going on. The silver eyes were like a thunderstorm, a confrontation and a challenge waiting to be taken. Of course, Harry admitted some truths about himself so Malfoy had to up him. The look they shared settled it - none of them was going to bail during this game. He tried not to think too much about Malfoy’s confession; he had never thought the git was strictly into men. Not that Harry was going to use that information. Just, _interesting_.

“I knew it! Thank you for your candor”, Seamus bellowed and Malfoy looked away from Harry.

They played a few more rounds, more kisses and dares were given out. Everyone screamed when Zabini didn’t bail out of kissing Dean (with Seamus’s blessing, of course). Then, it was Malfoy’s turn to spin.

Ron elbowed Harry. “The tosser’s probably going to play it safe”, he muttered.

“I heard that, Weasley, I choose kiss, and go fuck yourself”, Malfoy looked at them with disdain. Harry’s heart thumped.

The bottle spun and everybody watched it in suspense. It slowed down dangerously close to Dean, then Harry. He looked at Malfoy who was gazing at him, his mouth slightly open, looking almost scared. Then, the room erupted in screams and yelps. They both looked down and saw that apparently, the bottle wasn’t done moving, and it finally landed on Ron. 

“BAIL! I bail, I bail!”, Ron shouted over everybody, his face ashen. Malfoy laughed so hard, he was leaning backward, his hair all over his face.

“Sweet Merlin and Morgana, this is it, I fucking bail, I’m not kissing Malfoy!” Ron still looked shell shocked which only made everyone laugh even harder.

“There’s your Gryffindor, all bark, no bite”, Malfoy taunted, his arms crossed.

“You just wait, Malfoy, we might surprise you”, Harry shot back with a smirk.

“Fine, please do, I’m getting bored!”

“Fine!”

Ron took a generous swig of Firewhisky and let out a shuddering breath. He jerked his head at the bottle in the middle. “You show them, Harry.”

He picked up the bottle and braced himself. “I choose kiss”, he took a large sip and spun the bottle, his eyes on the blond.

Harry liked living a peaceful life. He was aware that the last seven years were the polar opposite of peaceful but he liked to think he never asked for any of it to begin with. Trouble always seemed to somehow find its way to Harry, orbiting around him and making his life miserable. So he wasn’t exactly surprised when the bottle came to a stop, pointing straight at the embodiment of a headache that was Draco Malfoy.

No one screamed this time. A few whispers could be heard, some people shared weird looks.

Malfoy looked straight at Harry. “Would you look at that. Going to bail, Potter?” His expression was cocky but there was something else, something strange in his eyes. Malfoy hardly ever dropped his mask but years of watching the git had apparently paid off; Harry could see he was nervous, and, shockingly, there was a subtle glint of hope. But if it was hope for Harry to bail or to go through with it, well, that they had to find out.

He considered his options. He could bail and the whole issue would be dropped after a week or so. Although, knowing Malfoy, the tosser would probably never let him live it down. He could go through with it to show he could take a challenge. And, well, he kind of _did_ wonder how it would feel like. Not that it mattered. But seeing the other man look at him like that, having this weird connection between them for years… Harry accepted that he didn’t really have a choice.

“Get over here, Malfoy.”

“I was under the impression it’s _you_ who is doing the kissing. Be my guest, Potter.”

He groaned in frustration and crawled all the way over to the other side of the circle, facing the Slytherin in all his glory. 

“Look who finally showed, welcome, oh, Chosen One!” Malfoy exclaimed in mock-wonder.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Do you have to be so annoying? Merlin, you just never shut up, do you?”

“It’s just part of my charm, and, well, you’re here so-”

Harry groaned, grabbed him by the shirt and unceremoniously hoisted the prat up to his knees. Their faces were now inches apart and Harry’s stomach jumped at the memory of them hiding in the corridor a few hours ago.

“Last chance to bail, Malfoy”, his voice was quiet, barely over a whisper.

“Scared?” The oldest jibe in the book didn’t sound like Malfoy this time; it was more like a soft exhale, without its usual bite.

Harry kissed him.

The second their lips met, he knew that this was all going to end in trouble. There was, shockingly, no resistance on either part, both men melted into the kiss, and, well, Malfoy’s lips were just as soft as they looked. Harry’s hand instinctively went to grab a fistful of white hair and the other man put his hand on Harry’s jaw, a thumb brushing his cheek. When Malfoy made a small sound at the back of his throat, Harry felt a shiver go down his spine. He hooked his other hand around the blond’s waist and, very slowly, touched Malfoy’s lower lip with the tip of his tongue. The other man opened up immediately and Harry almost went blind when their tongues slid together, hot and slow, their breaths mingling. The kiss was getting out of hand and in all its haze, Harry forgot they were at a party, surrounded by all their friends. Malfoy must have had a similar idea; he slowed down, nipped Harry’s lips one last time and finally, they broke apart.

The room was silent. Harry looked at Malfoy, his spit-slick lips and dark eyes; there was a question there, one Harry was unable to answer. Malfoy’s hair was mussed and he looked like a complete, debauched mess. It occurred to Harry that he must look pretty much the same. He let the other man go, not breaking eye contact. This was a mistake. His stupid attraction to Malfoy just got a thousand times worse. He was still a prat, but damn, if he wasn’t a brilliant kisser. 

Harry went back to his spot; everybody was looking at him and Malfoy and it made him uneasy. Finally, a small voice broke the silence.

“Is it just me, or was that incredibly hot?”, Hannah asked and looked around.

Seamus took a long swig of his whiskey. “Merlin’s tits, it was. Didn’t know they had it in them.”

Harry couldn’t find the courage to look at Ron just yet so instead, he turned to Malfoy. “How’s that for boring, Malfoy?”

The Slytherin looked at him with fury, and, did he just say the wrong thing? He grabbed the bottle, nostrils flaring and sneered. “For the next spin, I choose _myself._ And I choose _bite._ ”

Nobody protested when he spun the bottle. 

Ernie muttered to Dean. “How’s the bite even supposed to look like?”

“Dunno, nobody’s ever picked it.”

As the bottle started to slow down, Harry already knew. It was fucking impossible and it was still happening. Maybe the game was rigged, maybe the bottle was enchanted, maybe one of their friends had a secret talent for wordless, wandless magic. Or maybe it was the Room of Requirement itself, the ancient magic toying with his fate, no matter how dramatic it sounded. Apparently, everything was possible that night because the bottle was unmistakably pointing to Harry. Draco Malfoy was meant to bite Harry.

Everybody was muttering between themselves, looking from Harry to Malfoy. The Slytherin faltered for a second but collected himself and reapplied his signature cocky grin.

“Why Potter, we meet again. You can still bail.”

Harry flushed. His heart was pounding and he felt hot all of the sudden but he couldn’t back out now. There was also the factor of mystery because he couldn’t imagine how Malfoy intended to go about _biting_ him. Still, it was Malfoy-- and Harry had somewhat of a weak spot for all things Malfoy, apparently.

“Not a chance. Unless you want to”, he raised a brow.

The blond stood up. “Slytherins don’t bail.”

He stepped outside the circle and started to walk. The only sound in the room was the sharp clack of his expensive dress shoes on the stone floor. He slowly paced behind their friends’ backs, like a snake ready to strike, to finally stop behind Harry. He didn’t turn around, just looked straight forward in breathless anticipation. The was a shuffle behind him as Malfoy lowered himself to the floor. All eyes were on them; Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. The other man got closer. _So yeah, this was happening._ He tipped Harry’s head to the side, ever so subtly, and Harry’s heart almost jumped out of his chest when he felt a breath ghosting over his neck. 

And then, Malfoy bit him. It wasn’t like anything Harry had expected. Malfoy’s teeth slowly grazed the skin of his neck, pressing just a tiny bit harder, but not hard enough to leave a mark. His hot breath brushed over the sensitive pulse point and it was _glorious_ , the sensation sending sparks down his whole body. He pressed a little harder again, making Harry inhale sharply, and then laved the spot with his tongue, and that was it. At that moment, Harry forgot how to breathe. 

It could have been the alcohol. That was entirely in the realm of possibility. But it also could have been the way Draco smelled, like lemons with a hint of spice. Or how the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a pretty flush that went from his neck and down, under his clothes. Or the way his hair looked-- soft, ruffled and begging to be touched. Fine, whatever. But, no, it was most probably the alcohol. Because the next thing Harry did was not an act of a sober man. He grabbed the blond by his hair to pull him off his neck, turned his head and captured Malfoy’s mouth in a hard, searing kiss. Malfoy caught on quickly, immediately deepening the kiss, his tongue hot in Harry’s mouth. He didn’t know how long they kissed when they broke apart with a wet smack, gasping for air. 

“Oh bloody hell, get a room already!” Seamus bellowed and everybody laughed weakly.

Harry let go of Malfoy’s hair and the blond’s stare was boring through him. _What the fuck are we doing?_ His lips were still tingling from the kiss, he could still smell Malfoy’s intoxicating scent and it made his head spin. The blond finally stood up and got back to his spot. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw him discreetly touch his lips, his face a picture of utter confusion.

Pretending, and failing miserably, to act casual, he passed the bottle to Dean. “Your turn, mate.”

He looked at him funny and winked. “Let’s release all this tension a bit-- I’m going to go with truth.” The bottle landed on Pansy who turned to Dean expectantly. “Shoot, darling.”

“Parkinson. You Slytherins are tight, aren’t you?”, he slurred, smiling impishly.

“That’s your question?”

“My question”, he looked between Harry and Malfoy, “is this: do you reckon Malfoy has a crush on our Harry?”

Pansy darted a look at Draco who blanched. She laughed ominously. “Honey, we are, as you put it, _tight_ , but Slytherins also embrace the idea of self-preservation. And seeing how answering your question would put me in quite an unenviable position, no matter my answer, I choose to bail.”

Dean shot her an impressed look. “Turns out you lot might be just as sly as you say you are.”

Pansy huffed. “Please.” She took a sip of her drink and waved her wand; the bottle flew into Blaise’s lap. “Go get some, love.”

“For the record, I’m appalled not to be the one who got the most action here”, he shot Draco a devious smile and the blond rolled his eyes. “So I’m going with a kiss and it better be someone good!”

When the bottle landed on Harry, _again_ , he was fully convinced there was some form of magic fucking wither with them or with the game. Maybe it was the spot he sat in? He took a generous swig of his whiskey as his friends toppled over with laughter. Zabini looked more pleased than strictly necessary. Malfoy, on the other hand, did not share their amusement. Harry now understood the sentiment behind naming one’s child after a literal dragon; the blond’s jaw was clenched tight and his nostrils were flaring. It looked as if he could spit out a ball of flames were he to open his mouth. While Harry wouldn’t entirely discard the possibility that the Slytherin might have a possessive bone in his body, he would never have expected such sensibility aimed at himself. Not only it complicated the matters as they were; it also brought more questions than answers to the forefront of his mind that were now nagging at him with the obstinacy of a fly that won’t go away no matter how much one swats their hand.

“Potter, you better get your shapely arse over here because I am _not_ complaining after seeing what you’re capable of! They say it’s always the quiet ones.” Zabini didn’t seem to notice the knives his friend was staring into the side of his head.

Harry rolled his eyes and realized the lurch in his stomach wasn’t a pleasant one. This was different than kissing Draco, considering their, er, history; it felt almost wrong, in a way. _And when the fuck did Malfoy become Draco?_

Suddenly, a clear, cold voice cut in and the room went quiet. “Bail.”

All eyes turned on Malfoy. His cheeks were tinged pink but he still managed a withering glare. Harry looked at him in shock, his heart pounding. Was he… jealous? Just twelve hours ago Harry would have laughed at the prospect of him and Malfoy being-- well, anything. Not to mention them snogging in front of all their friends. And now, Malfoy blatantly, openly _protested_ against someone else kissing Harry. And if he was already so honest with himself, the little flutter in his stomach was an indicator that Harry kind of liked it.

“Isn’t that against the rules?”, Hermione asked with a furrowed brow.

“I said. _Bail_.” Malfoy hissed, narrowing his eyes. He was fuming; he gripped his wand in his fist, tight enough to break. Then, he stood up, sent a dark glower Harry’s way and promptly left the room.

Everybody stayed quiet, just looking at Harry. He hated the attention but knew the elephant in the room must be addressed one way or the other. Ron came to the rescue.

“What’s his problem?”, he slurred his words a bit. Hermione hid her face in her hands.

Harry knew exactly what was Malfoy’s problem but needed a moment to come to terms with his feelings. Which was a huge step forward-- that is, acknowledging they existed in the first place. 

He cleared his throat. “Um, I dunno, maybe-”

“Harry”, apparently, Hermione was unable to hold her tongue any longer. “Do you _really_ not know what’s happening here? Because I think we both know. And maybe, just maybe, you, er, share the sentiment?”

“What sentiment?” Harry said, a little panicked. He was nowhere near ready to admit his crush on the git was probably years in the making.

“Oh Merlin’s bloody tits, I have had _enough_!”, Neville slurred, knocking over his Firewhiskey bottle. Pansy cast a quick levitation spell to save the contents from spilling and summoned it straight to her lap. Smiling mischievously, she took a generous swig.

“I choose dare!”, Neville hollered, grabbed the bottle and pointed it straight at Harry with a wobbly hand. “Oh, _look!_ It landed on Harry!”, he belched. ”Sorry. My dare is for you to _bloody go after him!_ ”

“Hear, hear!”, Seamus bellowed in agreement. “Mate, this tension -- _hiccup!--_ has been killing everyone! For _years!_ Who’s with us, take a drink!”, he then took a long sip from his bottle.

Harry looked around the circle and blanched, as every single one of his fellow students and friends saluted him with their glasses and bottles. There were some murmurs-- _Punch Man’s right, Aye, I’ll drink to that._ They all took their shots; Harry looked to Ron, his heart pounding. His best friend lifted his glass in fond exasperation and scowled at him. “Just get the fuck out of here.”

He reluctantly turned to Parkinson. “Potter, if I hear one more hour-long tirade about your stupid hair and glasses, I will obliviate myself and move to China.” At that, Hermione mouthed a dramatic _thank you_ to her.

“Hermione!?”, he shrieked.

“Harry, you have talked about him nearly every day since we were eleven. I could write twenty inches on Malfoy’s bloody hair and eyes just from memory!” He recoiled, as Hermione almost _never_ swore. “You straight-up _spied on him_ all through sixth year, for Merlin’s sake! I think it’s safe to say that you might have a _little_ crush on him. And, well, apparently, it’s mutual.”

Harry couldn’t believe it. He tried, one last time, to feign ignorance. “But- What if he doesn’t-”

He was immediately shouted down by a cacophony of screams, all of them saying things like _JUST GO!,_ _HE DOES!_ and _FOR FUCK’S SAKE, HARRY!_

“All right, all right!” he held his hands up defensively and stood up. “I’m going, but if he murders me, it’s on you lot”, he pointed a finger at his friends.

“Oh, he will murder you all right, with his d- _hmmpf_ !”, Seamus didn’t get to finish his sentence as Hermione hit him with a muffling spell. _Go!,_ she mouthed, sending him a wicked smile.

Harry turned scarlet and bolted to the door. “Right. I’m going.”

He didn’t get to hear the cheers and catcalls that erupted in the room after the door closed behind him. 

***

Harry stepped outside to the corridor and looked around, a little helplessly. Where could Malfoy have possibly gone? Suddenly, he remembered - The Marauders Map! He sent a silent thanks to his past self for taking it before they left, in case they had trouble getting to the party. Harry opened it, promising that he was up to no good, snorting inwardly at the sheer irony. He scanned the map looking for the one dot that indicated where the blond wanker had stormed off to. Sixth-year memories hit him in a series of flashbacks and he relished in the familiar routine of tracking down the troublesome Slytherin. He finally found the dot and it showed that the other man was in their common room. Unexpected, but not the strangest occurrence that night, by far. The dot was moving in a chaotic pattern which suggested some furious pacing was involved. Harry let out a heavy sigh, asking himself if this was his life now. He made sure Filch was somewhere far away, put the Map back in his robes, and started walking. 

He had no idea what he was going to say to Malfoy. _Hey, Draco, I know you stormed off because you didn’t want me kissing someone else but I kind of want to only kiss you now?_ He cringed. No matter how much Malfoy would have hated it, Harry knew the quirks of his character quite well. Among many others, they included a tendency to let his pride get the better of him as well as a particular penchant for dramatics. These two characteristics complimented each other beautifully, resulting in a volatile mix that, when tampered with, would most probably have ended up in Harry getting his nose broken. He checked his sleeve to see if his wand was still there in a prudent effort to keep his bone structure intact. Cursing his life, alcohol and the general idea of parties, he approached the common room door. Behind it, awaited an agitated Malfoy who was going to fight Harry tooth and nail, feeling backed into a corner after having exposed a tiny soft spot. It was so infuriatingly _Slytherin_ of him to avoid any vulnerability to such an extreme degree. His hand on the door handle, Harry felt anxiety engulf him like a thick blanket. He had one chance not to fuck this up, or the tosser would shut him out completely, if there was even a slight chance of his fragile ego getting hurt. He pushed the door open.

Harry was greeted with a loud smash of broken glass. Malfoy had apparently conjured an array of porcelain vases and dishes that were currently used for target practice; it wasn’t the strangest turn of events Harry had deemed possible, considering the other man’s irascible temper. He smashed another dish into tiny pieces and turned around, startled by the sound behind him.

When he saw Harry, he dropped his wand with an eyeroll. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Happy to see you, too, Malfoy.”

“It would be wise to leave me alone, Potter. This is your only warning”, he spat, looking at Harry with utter disdain. Harry could see how his eyes betrayed him; suddenly, he remembered the terrified boy that cried his eyes out in the bathroom and his heart stung. His intention wasn’t to make Draco feel trapped or exposed so Harry had to tread carefully.

“I didn’t do it”, Harry started, his voice quiet.

“Didn’t find your last brain cell clattering around under that thick skull of yours?”, he rounded in on Harry. “Because it might be the only explanation why you’re still here. I said: _Leave me alone._ ”

Harry stifled the urge to grab the wanker and shake him into submission. “Could you just stop breaking stuff and hear me out?”

Draco looked at him defiantly; he raised his hand and clenched his fist, visibly straining. One of the vases behind him exploded, although not as spectacularly as the previous one. Harry gaped at him. “Did you just do that wandless?”

“I don’t know if you recall, but there was a time when I was _left_ wandless. So I _made do_.” He looked at him with a fake smile. “Also, the anger helps.”

Harry flustered at that. “Right. Both would be my fault.”

“Not for the first time, Potter.”

Harry took a deep, bracing breath, Malfoy watching him expectantly. “Back to what I said. I didn’t do it.” He looked away. “Kiss Blaise, I mean.”

“And could you kindly explain why should I care? Want me to give you a medal for exceptional self-restraint?” Malfoy sneered. This was going sideways; he tried subtle and it just set Malfoy off so Harry decided to go a bit bolder.

“Come on, Malfoy. I know you didn’t want me to. And”, he hesitated, “I didn’t want that either.”

He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Malfoy’s cheeks went pink as he took a deep breath. “You come waltzing in here, thinking you know what the fuck I may or may not want.” He drawled in a low, cold tone. He came closer but Harry didn’t recoil; not even when Draco grabbed a fistful of his robes. “This must all be very entertaining to you, I’m sure. But don’t think for a _second_ that you know what I think.” He pushed him, sending Harry stumbling backward. 

Harry felt his blood boil. He knew damn well what he was walking into but didn’t expect so much resistance and bullheadedness from the prat. 

“You think I came here to, what, exactly? Mock you? Piss you off, just for fun? How stupid do you have to be to think I would waste my time and make my life even more miserable with this _constant_ quarreling?” He groaned in exasperation and aimed his wand at one of Malfoy’s vases. It exploded with a satisfying smash, and, hey, he could see the appeal now. “You saw what happened there, you _were_ there and we both know it wasn’t a drunken accident!” Harry was yelling now; something must have gotten through to Malfoy’s peabrain, though. The blond balked and stared at Harry with an unreadable expression.

“So what, you suddenly have a change of heart and decide to come after me? What do you want, Potter?” 

Harry felt like pulling his hair out. “What do _I_ want!? You’re the one who stormed out at the prospect of me-” He cut off. Malfoy wasn’t looking at him anymore; his cheeks were flushed and he looked… helpless. Well, Harry wasn’t done being angry with him so he just scoffed. “Also, _suddenly?_ Fuck you, you absolute moron, I’ve fancied you since sixth year!” He screamed and stopped in his tracks. Malfoy had always brought out the worst in him and letting out that little secret was just another fat bullet point on the list of things he should never have said. 

“Well, I’ve fancied you since fourth!” Malfoy bit out in a vicious tone. 

“And you’re telling me this NOW?!” Harry felt their conversation was turning ridiculously surreal. He didn’t get to tell Draco that, though, as the man had apparently had enough. 

“WELL DECK THE FUCKING HALLS!” Malfoy roared, throwing his hand up in the air in utter frustration, “BECAUSE APPARENTLY, TIS’ THE SEASON TO SHARE FEELINGS, POTTER!”, he turned around and aimed his wand at another vase which smashed to pieces, this time in a flurry of flames. He raised his wand again but Harry was in front of him in seconds, grabbing him by the collar. Their faces were inches away and Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the taunting parallel hanging over their heads. He exhaled slowly.

Malfoy was looking at him with question in his eyes. “This isn’t a whim”, Harry said quietly. “I don’t know where it all came from but apparently it was there”, he swallowed thickly and licked his lips. “For some time. So if you don’t want to-”

“Potter”, the other man whispered. “Shut the fuck up.”

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out. He looked at Malfoy who just raised his eyebrows expectantly. Hary huffed and kissed the insufferable prat. 

They say that the third time’s the charm; well, it was definitely different. For one, it felt less… rushed, or frantic. There were no people around them to convince that this was just for the purpose of a drinking game. This time, it was just the two of them and it made the display a whole lot more enjoyable but also equally more vulnerable. The masks dropped, there was no way to cover it up, no other reason to do this except for pure, unadulterated want. And Harry was finally ready to admit he _wanted_. 

Their lips met in a slow, fervent slide, breaths coming out in long huffs. He cupped Draco’s cheek in his palm, stroking the pale skin. Draco traced his lower lip with his tongue, searching entrance; Harry opened up to him with a breathy moan, feeling the low rumble of arousal slowly starting to build at the base of his spine. He licked into Draco’s mouth, deepening the kiss; the wet shift of tongues, the scratch of stubble, the little soft sounds escaping the other man’s throat-- it was almost unreal and absolutely magnificent. 

A cool hand slid under his shirt and he shuddered; the blond traced his ribs and stomach with nimble fingers, each touch setting his skin on fire. He kissed him with a renewed hunger, holding him closer, nearly no space left between them. Tongue thrusting hungrily into the other man’s mouth, he moved his hand to grasp at the near-white hair. Draco shuffled and guided them to the couch where he sat down, pulling Harry on top of him to straddle his hips. They broke apart to take a breath, foreheads touching. Draco’s hand was still under Harry’s shirt as he leaned in to lick a stripe from Harry’s neck to his earlobe, and, _sweet Merlin_. His other hand went to the collar of Harry’s shirt, undoing the top button. Harry froze. 

“Draco”, he whispered, leaning back. “Are you sure-”

“Oh, right, why don’t we wait, say, two more years?”, the other man deadpanned. The next second, his expression turned uncertain. “Unless you don’t-”

“No! I mean- Yes, Merlin, I would-”, he didn’t finish as Malfoy shut him up with a sweet kiss.

“Eloquent as ever, Potter”, he smirked against his lips.

“Fuck you”, Harry breathed. 

Draco hummed. “One day, possibly.”

He groaned, propping his head up on the blond’s shoulder. “You will be the death of me, you know that? I’m not sure if I want to punch you or kiss you most of the time.”

“Judging by _that_ ”, he rolled his hips so that their clothed erections brushed together; Harry inhaled sharply. “I think this decision was already made for you.”

“Prat.” He kissed him again, gentle this time, savouring the feel of Draco’s wet, puffy lips. The blond resumed to slowly unbutton his shirt, not breaking the kiss, small nibbles and licks driving Harry mad. He soon recovered and made quick work of Draco’s shirt; they both laughed softly when it caught on his elbows, and, Merlin, he needed to make Draco laugh more often. Harry’s shirt fell to the floor shortly after.

Their kissing grew more frantic after that; having so much access to bare skin, they let their hands roam, explore every inch and trace every muscle with shaking fingers. Draco rolled his hips again and Harry moaned into the crook of his neck; they were both fully hard at this point, their cocks straining against the remaining layers of clothes. Harry thrust down, eliciting a nearly animalistic sound from Draco that he was sure would fuel his future dreams. He sucked on the delicate pale skin under the other man’s ear, kissing a wet trail down to his collarbone. Making small, lazy thrusts he continued down Draco’s shoulder and suddenly, there was a hand stopping him.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , Potter, stop!” Harry looked at him with wide, questioning eyes.

Draco planted a kiss on his chest. “Pants”, he panted against the sweaty skin. “Off.”

He patted around the sofa in search of his wand. “Where’s my- Oh, for fuck’s sake!”, he squeezed his eyes shut and waved his hand; the next second, their shoes, socks, trousers, and underwear were gone. They both groaned at the sudden skin-to-skin contact, their cocks finally free and sliding together, already wet with precome. Harry flushed at another show of Draco’s wandless magic-- it turned him on more than he was willing to admit. He slowly rolled his hips, reveling in the new sensation. Malfoy hissed and his hands shot to Harry’s back, blunt nails digging into the soft skin. He latched his mouth onto Harry’s neck and sucked on the skin there, this time intent on leaving a mark. Harry then went back to leaving a path of kisses down Draco’s neck while the other man was gasping into his hair. 

Harry could feel their cocks grinding together, the wet sound downright filthy. He was toying with a particular _idea_ lingering at the back of his mind, stifled by the haze of their arousal until now; looking down at the pink heads, glistening with their mixed moisture, he decided to go for it. Gasping, Harry slid off Draco’s lap down to the hardwood floor, wincing as his legs hit the cold surface. The picture before his eyes was sex incarnate; Draco sprawled on the sofa, a beautiful pink flush on his face and chest, looking at Harry with dark, glossy eyes, his mouth slightly open. His cock was resting upon his stomach, hard and flushed. Harry kissed one of his knees and slowly went up his thigh. Draco’s breaths grew faster, sharper; Harry looked up at him.

“Draco.” He placed a barely-there kiss just next to the base of his cock. It was a question, asking permission.

“Fuck. _Fuck_ , _Potter._ ” He was gasping for breath, looking down at Harry in complete awe, his coherency clouded by desire.

“Yeah?” Harry whispered against the inside of his thigh, breath ghosting over the sensitive skin.

“Please. Fucking Salazar, do it, please”, the blond babbled, his hands digging into the upholstery.

Harry grinned. “Do what?” He bit the skin lightly in that same spot and the other man almost screamed, his hips bucking so hard, Harry had to hold him down.

“Put my cock in your mouth, for fuck’s sake, do I need to spell it out-” He didn’t finish; a low, breathy moan and a stream of profanities escaped his mouth as Harry wrapped his lips around the head of Malfoy’s cock. He sucked it lightly, trying out the salty taste, feeling more precome drip on his tongue. It was a strange sensation; he had never done it before but, aware of his tendency to dive into things headfirst, decided he was more curious than nervous. And hearing the sounds Draco was making, writhing and gasping, he reveled in the knowledge he could tear him apart like this. 

Stroking Draco’s thigh, he laved at the sensitive spot right under the head. His other hand found Draco’s, who laced their fingers together and held on tight. Harry ducked his head, taking in more of the other man’s cock, dragging his tongue along the shaft. When the tip was almost at the back of his throat, he pulled back, agonizingly slow, savoring the hot thick weight in his mouth, Draco’s musky scent and ragged breaths. Feeling bolder now, he continued his ministrations, stroking his own neglected cock; he moaned around Draco, the vibrations making the man shiver.

There was a hand in his hair, pulling him up. “Potter, fuck. I’m going to-”

He pulled away with a wet pop, placing one last featherlight kiss to the tip. Draco was pulling him back up by his shoulders. “Fuck, come back here, _now._ ”

As soon as Harry settled back in his lap, Draco pulled him into a raw, hungry kiss, unbothered by where Harry’s mouth had just been. The man groaned, tasting himself on Harry’s tongue; his hand slipped between them and wrapped around both their cocks. Harry’s hips bucked into the touch as the blond jerked them at a slow pace. The wet slide of skin on skin, Draco’s teeth grazing his neck, biting and sucking on his earlobe, everything was setting his nerves ablaze. Draco’s hand on their cocks sped up, establishing a fast rhythm; they were both panting, their lips sliding together in a sloppy kiss. “Fuck, Draco, I’m close.”

“ _Harry-”_ , the blond gasped and he was coming, hot spurts covering his hand and both their cocks. He kept pumping, his come easing the movements and seconds later, Harry came, small, broken gasps escaping his lips. 

They both collapsed, Harry on top of Draco, breathing heavily. He pressed a few small kisses to his shoulder, where his head rested. The blond’s hand ghosted over his back, stroking it in soft circles. 

“Potter. Sticky. Get off me.” Draco demanded in a hoarse voice, not yet able to form full sentences.

Harry leaned back, looking at him teasingly. “I’m back to being Potter, now?”

Malfoy raised an amused brow. “Keep doing that and I might reconsider”, he held up a finger. “I _might._ Now get up and find our wands”, he wrinkled his nose. “I want a cleaning spell.”

Harry chuckled at his fussy tone. Spoiled brat. He gave Draco a chaste kiss to wipe the pout off his face and got up. The blond looked him up and down, tilting his head. Normally, he would feel exposed; the post-orgasmic haze must have rewired his brain because he repeated Malfoy’s own words back to him.

“See something you like?”

The blond rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so full of yourself, it’s unbecoming.”

He barked out a laugh and looked around for their wands. He found Malfoy’s first; his own must have been still tangled in his shirt. He threw it to Draco who caught it an expert move. “Why didn’t you cast it wandless this time?”

“Potter, do you honestly expect me to be capable of performing a very complicated and taxing kind of magic after you sucked my brains out through my cock?” He waved his wand, muttering the incantation, and banished the mess from his stomach and groin. Harry blushed at his comment, his stomach jumping at the memory. 

Suddenly, he remembered something. “Did you- Did you make the bottle land on me?! All those times?!”

Malfoy grimaced. “Believe it or not, I didn’t. I thought it was Granger.”

“Oh. Nevermind, then. Well, go on”, he gestured at himself, their come still on his stomach.

“Find your own wand and do it yourself!”

“Oh, you bloody tosser”, he went back and tried to sit back in Draco’s lap to rub the mess on him.

The other man recoiled in disgust. “What the fuck! Get off, all right!” He raised his wand and cast the spell again. “Salazar, Potter, you’re a filthy caveman.”

Harry, now all cleaned up, chuckled and joined him on the sofa, flopping down on Draco’s chest. The blond graciously allowed that, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders. He carded his fingers through the dark hair as Harry listened to his steady heartbeat.

“So. Fourth year, huh?” He couldn’t hide the amusement in his tone.

Draco went scarlet. “The first task, with the dragon. It was…”, he muttered but heard Harry’s chuckle. “Oh, piss off.”

Harry placed a soft kiss on his chest and Draco visibly relaxed at that, letting out a quiet huff. _Another dragon defeated._

“Do you want to go back to the party?” Harry asked, looking up. 

“I reckon they’re already drunk and unconscious by now.” He sniffed. “Unless you still want to have a go at Zabini, then be my guest.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I thought we’ve already established who I wanted to have a go at.”

He knew he said the wrong thing _again_ when the hand in his hair stopped as Malfoy froze. “So you had your _go_. Congratulations.” He shuffled to get up, but Harry held him down.

“Oh for- You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Draco loosened up a bit and Harry kissed his sternum. “You said it yourself. I don’t want to wait another two years.”

“Right. I suppose tonight had been… revealing. In more than one way.”

Harry snickered at that. “Well, I’m glad it was, even if you are going to drive me absolutely barmy.”

Draco’s hand resumed stroking his hair and Harry knew it was all the confirmation he was going to get for now. 

A few minutes passed and Harry shifted. “Draco?”

“Hmm?”, he hummed sleepily.

“When you banished our pants… Where did they go?”

Soft laughter rumbled in Draco’s chest. “I have no idea, I told you it’s tricky.” He sighed. “They’ll show up at some point. I hope it’s in Weasley’s breakfast.”

Harry snorted and let the slow, steady movement of Draco’s chest lull him to sleep.

***

Epilogue

Draco woke up to a severe headache pounding inside his skull and blinding sunlight peeking through the maroon curtains straight into his eyes. He groaned in discomfort; the eighth-year common room they were assigned to was acceptable but he missed their old Slytherin quarters in the dungeons. The soothing greenish tinge of the Great Lake’s waters was never this aggressive. And it was always pleasantly cool, not this hot and stuffy. He felt like he was covered with a thick blanket, so hot it was almost sticky and, _oh._

Harry Potter, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, was snoring softly, splayed on top of him, completely nude. His arms were wrapped possessively around Draco’s waist, his dark hair a compete, aggravating mess. Memories from the night before hit Draco like a train and his stomach fluttered. He looked at the other man and sighed, almost dreamily, and, Salazar, his brain must have evaporated somewhere between their kisses and… the other things. He looked at his hand resting on Potter’s shoulder, stark white against his golden bronze skin glowing in the morning light and waited for the reality check to punch him in the face. He waited for the cold needles of panic to find their way under his skin prompting him to _run_. Run, hide and go back to the comfortable nook in his life where none of this had happened; there, he could safely return to pretending he wasn’t screaming inside with frustration every time he saw Potter and his stupid smile. The problem was, it didn’t come. There was just Potter, a heavy, warm presence that somehow sneaked into his heart and was now sound asleep, tightly wrapped around his body. And, Salazar, Draco never wanted to leave the dingy sofa; he wanted to savour every quiet breath, every stir, wanted to never let go and just drown in this wondrous bubble. Alas, as pleasant a prospect as falling back to sleep was, his neck was cramping, he couldn’t feel one of his arms and he was in dire need of a shower. He ran his hand trough he messy black locks.

“Potter. Wake up.” He whispered.

The other man stirred and only tightened his octopus grip, groaning into Draco’s chest.

He huffed, jabbing a finger into the other man’s side. “Potter!”

Finally awake, he jumped and looked at Draco sleepily, his eyes a piercing green. He smiled softly. “Good morning.”

Draco’s heart lurched inexplicably. He stroked the other man’s cheek with his hand and he leaned into the touch, purring in bliss. “It’s morning, indeed. We should get up”, he murmured.

Potter hoisted himself up until his face was level with Draco’s. With a goofy smile plastered to his face, he planted a sweet, tender kiss on his lips. Draco’s head spun as he practically melted into the sofa from the sheer affection but quickly broke away. Harry (and, _fine_ , he could at least call him that in his head) chased his lips but Draco turned away. “No way. Morning breath.”

The other man laughed and moved to his neck instead, warm little kisses all over Draco’s skin, and, _oh,_ there was something definitely going on, if the hardening bump on his thigh was any indication. “Potter”, more kisses. Draco sighed. “Potter, stop. What time is it?”

“Dunno”, he muttered into Draco’s neck. “Don’t care.”

Draco hissed when the other man’s hips rolled against his insistently. He put a hand on his shoulder. “Potter. Believe me when I say that I would _really_ like us to continue, but _focus_.” Harry groaned. “Where is everybody? No one came back yet. What will the headmistress think when none of the eighth-year students show up for breakfast?”

Harry looked at him, his eyes widening. “Shit.”

“ _Shit,_ indeed.”

He let out a pained sigh and flopped onto Draco. “All right. We should at least send a Patronus.”

They eventually got up and got dressed, both blushing furiously as they picked up their shirts. Potter did send a Patronus to the seventh floor, just in case their friends were still passed out. Seeing as their pants were still nowhere to be seen, they summoned new ones from their rooms. When both men were fully dressed, which was a pity, as Potter’s naked form should come with a health warning, Draco found himself stalling. They had to go to breakfast and, well, what now? Were they going separately, pretending nothing happened? What was Potter thinking? Salazar, he was behaving like a twelve-year-old little girl.

“Draco.” His voice shook him out of his train of thought. “You’re thinking so hard I can almost _hear_ you, and I’m shit at Legilimency.”

He came closer and Draco stumbled. “I- I just-” 

“Hey. Hey, come here.” Harry took his face in his hands. “I think I know what this is about.”

Draco regained his composure. “I doubt your social skills go far beyond Granger and Weasley.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Let me make myself clear. I want to take your hand now, and go to the Great Hall, and have breakfast with you.” He linked their fingers together and Draco’s hands stopped shaking. The other man pressed a lazy kiss to his mouth. “And if our friends ask any questions…” He hesitated, suddenly getting flustered. “I’d kind of like to tell them we’re, you know.”

“We’re what, Potter?”, he asked with uncertainty.

The other man took a deep breath. “I was hoping we’re dating.” Looking away, he started rambling. “Seeing as we already wasted so much time, and, well, yesterday, I told you-”

He didn’t get to finish as Draco promptly shut him up with a hot, greedy kiss. After a good few minutes, they broke apart, both panting. “That is acceptable.”

They never made it to breakfast.


End file.
